What You Are, For Always
by DeepRiverWoman
Summary: Will Graham finally sees that light, in about 350 years. Maybe sooner than that. This is how it ends.
1. Waking Up

**Notes: **

WELP

I thought about this for a while and took the plunge to do it. Some music has inspired me, so you might see some of that incorporated later on. Also: Langley says "duddn't" because he has a Southern accent. It's not a typo! I wouldn't lie to you. I don't have the face for it. Thanks to the folks who read this first part for me and gave me suggestions. Though it has not been traditionally beta read, I did most all of the editing myself (not gloating at all...it's just a warning XD)

* * *

_I hear Hannibal's voice in the well of my mind. I hear him saying words that he's never said to me. It isn't my imagination. It's something else._

Will sat at the edge of the bed in his cell, idly cracking his knuckles in the darkness. A tray of processed Salisbury steak withered peas, and instant potatoes sat on the floor. Will began chewing at his bottom lip when his knuckles had all been cracked, and stared at the ceiling. He'd attempted sleep an hour ahead of time and it didn't work. He looked at the bars in front of him, at the yellow light from windows watching him. Thoughts passed in front of him like shadows. Shadows turned into more defined and sharp shapes, multiplied into forms of people scurrying about that he couldn't see above the floor.

A voice in his head. "I wondered when you would find me," it said.

Will did not hear his own voice, but felt his mouth form the shape of words. "Same here."

There was a dripping sound that echoed down the long dank hallway and seemed to creep it's way closer to him. He got up and stepped close to the bars, and peered through them. The human shapes still scurried against the cold floor.

He pressed his head against the opening of the bars, as far as it would go. The only thing he saw was a dark hole, where the hallway would lead. No more cells, no doors or windows. As he began to turn he noticed that there was water seeping under his shoes.

All he needed at this point was a leak from some toilet (his luck it'd be the one Chilton used) dripping down into his cell as he slept.

There were a number of voices that began to swarm around in Will's head, none of them sounded like the one he was used to. There was a mixture of women and men, and they all meshed together like drones in a bee hive.

The water splashed against Wills feet, startling him. He watched its stream rise from the floor, and begin spreading itself out along the ceiling and against the walls like clinging, liquid arms. Will froze; his legs no longer worked nor could he feel them. Yet, he felt a rush of air being pushed into his lungs and he arched his back and gasped his belly filling up with more oxygen. His body was tossed to the floor, and the cell began looking like a monsoon. Will gasped against the floor; his lungs were filling with air but it felt as though something else was doing the work for him.

The water made a whirlpool above him and soon distant sounds of mechanic humming, clicking and buzzing grew very loud in his ear. He could only manage a tiny whine to come out, before the water stung his eyes and his vision became covered with a thicket of blur.

A woman's voice emerged. It was close; right above him. It was warm and alive. "Alright, open the hatch."

Will jerked in a transparent tube, filled with blue liquid that had an icy crust and slush as it melted. He opened his eyes and they were covered with sheet of glass that retracted automatically.

"Count of three," said the voice. One, two, three."

A thick rush of suction came from underneath him, as all the liquid drained out with a whoosh. There was a mask, covering his nose and mouth, an instrument made entirely of steel, supported by a coil that served to feed air to his lungs. His eyes stung from the little bit of cold liquid that did manage to get through. He shivered and goose pimples rose on his skin.

A hand covered in a thin transparent glove reached into the chamber and pulled off Will's breathing apparatus. Will felt another pair of hands on his sides, guiding him to help him sit up. The women their kept faces emotionless, actions carried in a manner well practiced.

"What time is it?", Will asked. That was a common question. Will supposed it was appropriate then, to ask it, and managed to make his voice sound tired while he did.

The brunette nurse, holding his breathing mask, barely made any reaction to his question, and answered in a slightly exasperated tone. "The year is 2360, you've just woken up from frozen sleep. you've been asleep for two years, your name is Will Graham. So how do you feel?"

* * *

Will threw a robe on with little tubes of heat that was used to raise the body temperature up.

"I'm fine," he said, and then lifted his hand to gesture towards his throat. All around him people emerged, all in various degrees of grogginess from waking, wearing only their underwear, some of them huddled in groups laughing and talking about breakfast; some with blankets wrapped around them in kind.

The brunette woman nodded.

"Grab him some water, Beth,"

Both woman were medical staff, and wore slacks and jackets that were light blue and square shaped, and their hair was wrapped in tight, chaste little buns.

Metallic tools hung on the opposite wall some of them appeared long and sharp; they were all meant for brain surgery on the spot should anything go wrong with a thawing. Will had seen at least one person have to be subjected to it. Thankfully, it was rare that it happened. Will stood beside a window looking into a deep, indigo void. The void was speckled with bright white stars and a few floating orbs; planets tinged in moonlight. Will supposed they must have been about twenty to thirty light years away from Earth at this point.

The other nurse, a short red headed woman, removed one of the tools from it's clear case, and pressed the cup shaped end of it to Will's forehead. Will took a big gulp of water from his cup, as he heard a click and felt a tiny metallic sting pierce a layer of skin; to collect data on his blood flow and brain waves at once. There were tiny beeps and blips and green lights from the device, each signaling in a numbered sequence. Testing his cognitive functions. They did this the first time he had awoken from frozen sleep, a night that to him stayed fresh in his mind.

He had collapsed on a wet parking lot, behind an apartment complex in Los Angeles. It had been the first time his body felt real- that he remembered even having a body- in a long time. He was unclothed, head down as he staggered about, saw his feet move across the ground and mud collect in between his toes and that feeling alone had overwhelmed him. He was flesh again, and every small sensation-like the feeling of his feet against wet gravel- bit into him, and sent waves throughout his body.

He'd spent a long time floating through space an anomaly. He hadn't remembered much from before he crashed through the atmosphere, and landed in his old home. Except for all those things that he couldn't bury; like fire and bright glowing red memories of violence that stayed in his mind.

"I think we'll keep him," Cathleen Pierce had said. "We could use a Dead Walker in our ranks."

Over time, Will became slightly annoyed by it the test instruments being pressed to his head. It was only because he knew he didn't need it; His brain checked out fine every time.

Nothing there out of the ordinary that a machine could detect at least. But Will moved to rub his head, out of habit.

"All fine," said Beth, a red headed nurse.

All fine. Of course.

Human instruments where for human minds.

Both of the women walked away from Will, without caring to engage in conversation. Not that he would mind very much. He preferred most days to be quiet anyway. On rare occasions when it had been still inside his head, he enjoyed listening to the low humming of the ships engine, the sound of air sliding against it's outer walls and distant, busy footsteps.

The ship had many narrow nooks and crannys inside, though it was a dark cluster of a thing.

Will walked along away from the chamber room and down the long gray corridor that would lead to living quarters, where he would spend the duration of his trip. He really did hate them, but they served their function. He heard a voice call over the intercom trailing along the coolly lit ceilings. It was a sterile voice with no inflections and was clearly patterned to sound female. It didn't come from his head.

Will rubbed his temples. He blinked, and as he did a flash of eyes entered his vision. They were like that of deep red gemstone brushed by candlelight. He acknowledged it; blinked again to cast it away.

He arrived at two large white steel doors. There was a thin blue glowing seam running down their middle, where they parted. There was a hologram white numbers on the door's surface reading "23."

Will flicked his wrist -another habit- and placed the palm of his hand against the right door. Waves of light spread out from under it, forming a glowing blue net. It indicated his palm print was being read, and the doors slid open with barely a sound.

The cabin, small and circular held all of his belongings, some old enough that he'd kept them hidden away in boxes and drawers. A few mementos here and there. Cool dim light haloed at center of the ceiling, casting down on Will as he walked inside. It's luminescence soothed him, made his body feel cool and his nerves settle, so he kept it on a low setting all the time. Furniture was minimalist, with accents of chrome table feet and handles, the table surfaces transparent and speckled with electric dots that blinked in and out, and reminded Will of his thoughts.

A large clear sheet extended from the wall, It illuminated itself with the sounds and images of channel forty-two, and a re-run broadcast of Ultimate Master of Warriors Deluxe, a fighting tournament.

Will didn't generally watch it, but he kept pretty much anything on in his room for sound. Reaching for a cup in the small Lucite cupboard, he poured some water and looked down into his cup momentarily, and let his gaze settle there. His mind again wandered back in memory, back to the one voice he had heard before waking. Will drunk deep from the cup and swallowed hard as if to cast the memory away.

Truth be told he slept in the tube to humor people; he could make them feel as though he was like them, and the wouldn't know what he was in reality.

Perhaps to make himself feel the same. He was never clear on which.

He felt tiny tremors through his body as if his skin was on the verge of giving way to something crawling underneath. It was with him everyday, and he repressed it by scratching his arms or hugging himself, or taking a hot shower. Often he wasn't sure how much he could contain. Then the sensation would crawl away from under his skin and reach the inside of his skull where it fought to break away and gave him headaches.

A light ringing sound at the door brought Will away from his thoughts, and tremors He lifted his head up sharply to look. "Who is it?," There was an edge to his voice that he didn't mean to creep in.

"Room service," a voice said. This made Will grin and forget being uncomfortable. He could tell by the voice on the other side of the doors that she was smiling. "Not hungry," he said flatly but made sure to smile as he was saying it.

"Please?," she said. "Look, you probably haven't eaten since you woke up. I know how you are. Open up I have tea!"

Will shook his head but the grin stayed on his face.

"Authorize."

At that command the doors slid open, revealing a woman with short blond hair and a rather goofy smile holding a tray of sandwiches and a pitcher of tea.

She walked in striding as the doors closed behind her. "Good morning sir."

"Morning Cathleen," Will said smiling wryly. Cathleen set the tray down and removed two cups from it, pouring the golden-green tea into each one, letting sprinkles of mint leaves slide with it.

She knew that Will didn't care much about tea but nevertheless she thought it best that he have some to help him relax. And she enjoyed his company.

She was at least an inch taller than Will, which was more noticeable when then stood close. Her hair was long enough that she had to keep it in a ponytail most of the time, and only in appearance did she look to be a few years older than him; about in her mid to late forties.

Will lifted the cup to his lips and took a feeble sip of tea. "It's nice. Minty."

Cathleen nodded in thankful gesture. "So I hear," she began with a sigh, "that you had a little trouble waking up today." She drank. "By the way, you really need to turn some more lights on in here."

Will snorted. He took another sip of tea even though he didn't want it. He made his eyebrows wrinkle so that Cathleen would see it. "Who said that? I wake up, I get dressed, you know. I do what I do like everybody else." He disregarded her remark about lights.

"Yeah, but you're having trouble with it. Ten second delay is normal for most people but it's as if you can't come out of it you go longer. Longer than normal. The nurses told me you should be fine. But I question their judgment at times...," she trailed off, noting the expression on Will's face. Was it irritation? With her? Maybe it was something else, not related to her. She knew that she often worried of what he though of her for nothing.

"You seem to be prone to these, these long wakings, and I just wanna make sure you're OK. I know the sleep can be rough, especially in the type of work we do. What we have to face every time we wake. When people seem that they don't wanna wake, they sometimes don't wake at all...it's a mechanism. I just...I'd thought I'd check on you that's all." Cathleen could feel her cheeks get hot and she felt as though she was rambling. She felt a bit silly. Perhaps she was worrying too much.

Maybe Cathleen was right about something, but Will wouldn't let her know it. He knew that he could not sleep forever even if he wanted to, but many times he did want to. Not to be dead. He'd been there already. But, what he wanted was a quiet peace. No dreams or visions whether horrific or not. He wanted a moment in time where he could cease to exist and wake up seeing the world anew.

Will looked at Cathleen, meeting her gray eyes with his own, blue and perceptive ones. Cathleen's gaze didn't flinch, knowing how much of an encapsulation they could be; of softness and childlike grace, layered with a harshness that seemed-to her at least- old, in way.

"I'm fine," Will said in measured tone, his comfort denoted with a small smile. 'It's nothing out of the ordinary. Really I'm fine."

There was a moment where neither of them spoke, silence punctuated with the clinking of plates against table. The sandwiches hadn't been touched. Will was contemplating what his words of reassurance would do. Probably not much, but at least it would keep her from asking about his welfare for a while.

"I do suppose I am a bit of a worrier," Cathleen said whimsically. "I just can't help that I worry about you."

"It's in my nature."

An announcement came overhead, noting they were landing at their destination, and Will felt the engines shift gears softly, and the floor moving over a pocket of air as the ship began it's graceful decent to soil.

"Well," Will began, a smile spreading warmly across his bearded face once more, a smile that was soon shared warmly between them.

"Don't go against your nature."

* * *

Parts of the Underworld of course connect to the underside of each realm. And you want to go there, they have cookies. I will have a chapter four, five, and six. I just need to type them out. Please allow for time and patience :3 (muah)

The beginning quote of course is from season two ep. Season two has been been very inspiring to me as I work on this.


	2. Possessions

BlueBird is what they called it, a nick name not official. It housed the first ever Los Angeles Cult Neutralization Unit, or CNU. All dark blue steel and aluminum with three levels; one could see it a mile away, as a dark ominous cloud with jagged edges and tiny blinking red and blue lights. It was not particularly designed for stealth, but more so designed as the home base for operations and travel all at once. It housed smaller individual and group crafts that were in fact designed to hide in darkness and plain sight.

The city below was covers in sky roads, and sleek glassy skyscrapers and towers. Some of them seemed as jagged as blue bird was; made of glossy black with the lights of windows illuminating at different levels, made them look from far away like exotic earth stones.

Earth became a different place. Giant holographic ads, floating streets and floating cars made up half of the world; their cities lit up at night with bright rich colors like a comic book, and then faded into less savory parts of town, the dark crevices where cult activity was rampant.

They landed at Zarrmina, formally known as Gleise 581 g. It was the only known planet habitable by human beings an existence, and after a lengthy battle with foreign governments over who would call ownership but lost after it being deemed unconstitutional to legally "own a planet." And so, as it was still proven not entirely safe to live there, it was thus far safe from any jurisdiction by the Government.

"They call themselves the Mortal Gods," said Commissioner Robert Langley, and he spat the name out of his mouth as if it was poison to his tongue. He kept his hand placed on his baton as he circled around the group of officers composed of namely Will, standing in front with his arms crossed, and Sasha Vasquez, a short young officer recently promoted from cadet. She had short hair dyed a blinding shade of red, and enjoyed standing next to Will and throwing him amused looks whenever Langley had said something she didn't dare show amusement towards.

"We know they've been hiding here for about eight weeks, and they have a pregnant woman with them, so be extra careful as you approach any one of them."

The Mortal Gods were a very known sect, but very elusive. Responsible for at least ten known murders, they targeted elderly people, whom they believed would be born again as everlasting energy; after being consumed by the demons they worshiped. This energy would give the sect power, make them nearly invincible. An augmented energy of renewed youth, that would give credit to their namesake.

"We want them to know; there's no place they can hide, There's no safe haven for these people. As long as they commit these atrocities on our home soil there's no way they leave or jurisdiction. No matter how far they go, we're gonna get 'em. Put them in a steel box where they belong." His forceful rhetoric echoed in the ready room, where all the officers stood listening, stones faced.

Langley turned a heel, then glanced at Will, who held his gaze a moment longer than Langley would have liked. He frowned slightly. Not enough for anyone to pick up on. "Alright we're in landing position. Let's move."

"Your guns charged full?" whispered Sasha, as they left the craft, she sprinted lightly to catch up to Will.

"Of course. You?" He grinned at her.

"Nah only 85% again," she said in a giggly voice. "That's why I gotta bring cartridges."

"You're bad at that."

"I know. Don't tell the Cap though."

"Do I ever tell him anything?"

They smiled at each other before they parted ways, entering the jagged surface of the planet, turning their light beams on as they neared the dark.

* * *

Will was always a little paranoid at times like these, when the sound of even his soft footsteps often became deafening in his ears. He always assumed someone else would hear even though he was careful. When he was indoors, in the confines of the ship seemed quieter somehow. But when he went outside, out into nature, where he was in open space of trees and shrubbery that had begun to grow around dilapidated buildings, his senses kicked into overdrive. His own movements were very loud to him, even though it didn't seem that way to those he was hunting; even though Cathleen would often tell him that he's fond of sneaking up on her or just "appearing" in a room.

The screaming pierced his eardrums almost right away and their reverberations sliced through the air like sharp knives. Will darted in the direction of the old woman's screams, his legs moving faster than even he realized. With his left hand, he tapped on a shiny black button on the front of his shirt, and it made a clicking noise.

"Sasha?" he whispered. "I'm getting closer to them and they have a sacrifice. Follow me. Open a channel to the others."

"I'm on it."

Nearing the other side of the remains of what looked like a makeshift altar, Will saw the old woman being held down by two brutish men, both dressed in grayish robes. She didn't have a lot of fight in her, but they stifled what little she could muster.

They held her on the ground, against sharp rubble and glass.

"There are about ten of them. A young male he's uh, about 5'3 looks like. Could be in his late teens. He's holding the knife."

Will's eyes darted back and fourth rapidly until he saw the last person. "The pregnant woman is at your left."

It didn't take very long for the back up to get close, all in black, like a troop of drones zeroing in, flanking on all sides. Sasha stayed close to Will, ready to jump in front of him if need be.

He would do the same.

Will slowly turned the dial on his gun, and a sharp, thin light beam cast itself upon the young man's head before he could plunge the knife in the old woman's stomach. Before Will could say a word, the others in the cult knew what it meant.

'Drop the knife."

The young man turned, trembling and saw that the light beam was pointed at his head. Standard protocol. He was freckled, and trembling. He couldn't have been more than twenty. This was probably his induction.

"Leave us alone," a woman hissed. "Why do you have to intrude on our lives? Go away!"

Cathleen huddled low enough at the perimeter to sneak up on the woman and grab her, subduing her quickly with a low voltage bolt. With that, the others swarmed, unsheathed concealed blades from their robes and pockets of their jeans and coats. Four of them were snapped back, along with the brutes, as beams of hot lasers pierced through their skulls causing blood to spurt out of the back of their heads in neat streams. Their bodies flew backwards onto the ground and their eyes remained open.

An overwhelming smell of copper filled the air and reached Will's nose.

Sasha was the one that shot the fourth in the head, and turned to Will not asking if he was okay outright, but Will knew. She leaned down over the body to inspect it. There was an outbreak of crying, moans and angry threats from the group that was left. Sasha quickly went over to the old woman and helped her off of the ground. "We need medics now!"

Langley ran out to the front of the dissipating group of people as cultists and bodies were being taken back to the craft. The pregnant woman stood, looking around with tears coming down her face. Her hands were cuffed but the officers held onto her more gently of course.

"Now little lady," Langley chimed.

"What's your name?"

The woman looked at the ground, then at an officer, who nodded at her to keep speaking. "Eleanor," she said quietly.

"Eleanor huh?," Langley said, grinning and flashing a few yellowed teeth. "So, when are you due Eleanor?"

Will stood at the center of the field, watching Langley closely.

"In March," Eleanor said. She avoided Langley's eyes.

"March. Hm. Well I'm sure you're excited. I know I would be. Bringing a lil' bundle of joy into the world I sure would be."

Will stepped closer to Langley, eyeing him in a predatory gaze. There was something in the tone of Langley's voice that he didn't like. It was syrupy sweet, and it stunk of phoniness.

"You're excited, aren't you?"

Eleanor nodded. The officers on either side of her still held her in a firm grasp.  
"Yes. I bet you are. I bet you're very excited. That makes me quite frankly little lady, disgusted. That you would feel any sort of excitement about bringing a lil' baby into your world of filth and corruption."

The girl's lips quivered as she started to cry. Langley leaned close to her and as he did, Will stepped closer to him.

"In March, your baby's gonna be getting a real momma."

Eleanor screamed, and the officers had to hold her back, as she pleaded with Langley not to take her baby away.

"Take her back her back to the ship, put her in the cell. It's gonna be a long trip little lady!" he called after her, against her screams of wanting to be reformed.

When he went to take a step forward, Will stopped him in his tracks; holding her forearm against Langley's chest firmly.

"You didn't need to do that," Will said, and his eyes were as sharp as daggers.

"I can pretty much do what I please officer Graham. I don't know where you get off putting your hands on me, but-"

"You just wanted to upset her."

Langley scoffed. "That baby's not gonna be hers after all is said and done anyway. That child belongs to the system now."

"You poured salt into her wound," Will insisted.

"Maybe you outta get your priorities straight, Will. Unless you forgot that an old woman almost lost her life tonight, to the same filth that young lady pledged her life to."

"I haven't forgotten that..." Will was interrupted briskly.

"Well then surely you haven't forgotten what your place is here. Under me, and for the cause. Don't mess around and forget it."

Will let the thought of taking Langley's neck in his hand and crushing it to a red, gushing pulp pass in his mind.

"Now get out of my way and get back to base, now. Or I'll have the pilot leave you here. Believe me, that won't be too difficult."

Will backed away. Langley and two other officers stood in the field, and Langley directed them to start looking around. Will wondered what they'd be looking for. But he walked away, he was tired of looking at Langley's face.

* * *

Will couldn't wait to go home.

He couldn't wait to see his own bed again. Not that he slept that much, but just being able to lay down in it was enough. Just being able to stare out of the window at the buildings that were built in his past and the yellow street lamps that remarkably still stood. His home was an old district, nestled away from the metallic and industrially crisp cities. It used to be known as New Orleans, but was now called Decanter. It held a whimsy that Will couldn't resist; an old world of voodoo that was peppered with space aged technology, but not overrun with it.

However much time had changed things, Decanter was one of those places where it didn't seem to matter; all the signs of the new century appeared as a cracked shell that couldn't really hide the darkened allies with old 21st century architecture that had been forgotten by most. This city held old churches, places where all manner of citizens still came to to pray. Some of the only things of Will's first existence that still stood. And he longed to go back there and be alone at least for a little while.

That voice crept into his thoughts again. "I have always admired simplicity myself."

No matter what he did or where he went, that voice and those red gemstone eyes would always follow him.

Will left his cabin and decided he'd venture down to the cells, and distract himself from the things flashing his mind.

Though the ship was large the path to the cell room was narrow and the cells were less taken care of than the rest of the ship. Metal had began to rust over, and the walls were not as well insulated.

Eleanor sat on a bench in her cell, with a force field between her and Will. Her face was down, with her hand caressing her pregnant belly in an effort to soothe the life inside. Will thought it was a sad sight.

"Hello there, Eleanor?" Will said as soft and as low as he could. He stepped closer to the force field, but kept his distance behind a faded white line on the floor.

Eleanor looked up and swallowed. Will could tell that she did her best not to appear startled. "What do you want?" she asked, hoarse.

"I uh...I just wanted to check on you. See if you were okay, or if you needed anything. I know today's been a little rough on you, I thought that-"

"What do you care about how today went?"

Will paused. It was a good question. He rubbed his beard.

"Look, kid. Some of us, we do care. We're not all bad...don't let him fool you. Anything you need, you ask me and I'll be happy to give that too you."

Eleanor chuckled, bitterly, and it reminded Will of himself for a split second. "Can you give me freedom? Can you give me what my brothers and sisters gave me? Would you let me be a mother to my child?"

Will hung his head, grinned ironically. "You're right. There are some things I can't give. Don't know how to. If I could, I would make things different for you." He wasn't sure if what he said was a lie or not.

"You don't even know me. You killed some of my friends."

"Some things...can't be helped Eleanor...you will be tried for attempted murder. We did what we could to protect who you were going to hurt." As Will explained this, he let his eyes settle on Eleanor's so she could understand.

Eleanor leaned into the force field, returned Will's gaze without blinking. "We do what we do for the good of our masters," she hissed. Will was stepped back. "When we bring gifts to the masters, they are good to us. They will protect us. Better than you would claim to."

Will nodded. He slowly turned to walk away. "Then I can't help you. You rely on monsters way too much," he said, smiling softly. He walked out slowly, and was surprised at himself at how defeated he felt. He wondered to himself why he thought she would listen to him. Or why he cared so much about any of it.

"I know who you are," she finally said.

Will stopped in his tracks. He turned, and wasn't quite sure if he heard her right. "What?"

"I said...I know who you are. You think we're all delusional don't you? Some of us know the truth. Some of us have actually seen things. And I know who you are."

Will sighed. Maybe she was tired. He knew he was. Maybe he could leave before she said anything else that made the pits of his stomach turn.

"Alright," he said wearily, with a wave of his hand. "Goodnight Eleanor."

She grinned, and walked up close to the force field, so that her breath made little waves against its surface.

"He's gonna be coming for you," she said. Her eyes grew round and wide.

Will's stomach dropped. He turned to look at her again, though he hesitated as though if he looked he would see someone else.

"We know him and he knows you. And when he gets you he's gonna rip you apart. Piece by piece. He's gonna take the very best parts of you. We have called to him...and he calls for you. Your blood will free him from his captivity...then we will offer you to him."

Will blinked, and swallowed hard. "I don't know who you're talking about. You need rest."

As he left, and the doors slid shut, Eleanor's voice echoed through the room, and cracked sharp against Will's ears. Will stared at the hallway in front of him, and his legs felt as though they moved slower and slower, the hallway getting darker and darker. His throat became painfully dry.

"He'll give us power!" she said. "And you will be our gift to him!"

* * *

"What I wanna know Cathleen, is why he's here," Langely said, standing in the darkened Commissioner's office. " I know you feel like you need to help him. For whatever reason I'll never understand. But have you ever wondered why he sticks around?"

"He cares about the cause and what we do Robert, he has the same agenda as us."

"I disagree with that. I think he's got something he's hiding. And he's got his own reasons why he's here. I don't trust him."

"It's not that you don't trust him," Cathleen said lightly. "You just don't like him."

Langley's expression changed, from that of confident smugness to a bit of uncertainty. He didn't like when Cathleen questioned him; her rank allowed her to do so, but he didn't like that she would distrust his judgment.

"It's not just that I don't like him. I have reasons for not liking him. I think he's an old relic who is so self important because he's got mileage on every one of us. He thinks, because he's a Dead Walker, that he can just question shit I say without reprimand."

"He's a good officer Robert. He's got a lot of good ideas. His 'mileage' over us means he's had a lot of experience ahead of most us in dealing with the law in dealing with people."

Langley grinned, and it was actually a very bitter grin, though he hid it well. "You see a lot of good things in him, don't you?"

Cathleen nodded.

"Well," Langley sighed, sitting on the edge of his desk wearily, "I'm gonna go ahead and say that I trust you Cathleen. It duddn't mean that I trust him."

"I'll take whatever I can get," Cathleen said.

She smiled before she turned away, and her smile faded as soon as her back was to him. Langley knew Will would probably tell her that he manhandled a pregnant woman. He knew she would probably not believe him. That gave him comfort.

* * *

As Will left BlueBird, the scent of the crisp air filled his nose. The thought that he was closer to home made his heart leap a little. They landed far away from his place, but it didn't matter. He would pay the fair, take the Bullet back and be there in no time at all.

And then he could lay down in his bed with the lights off, and listen to the wind rustle through precious trees. Hopefully undisturbed by flashes in his mind; but he knew that was a bit much to hope for.

Cathleen told Langley that she would stay in the office at BlueBird to do the last bit of the police report.

Langley went back to his two story house, right outside of LA. He said hello to his German Shepard, and groaned as he walked up the stairs to his bedroom.

He poured himself a glass of brandy, took off his jacket and his bullet proof armor. He put on some music; old jazz standards. He went to his closet, and with one swipe of his hands opened the motion sensor doors. He walked past his jackets and clothes, and beyond them. At the end, there were two more doors. Steel enforced. Needing two voice commands to open. He issued a palm print to the right door, and said the commands. The doors slid open revealing an oval room, accented with Wedgwood molding which illuminated with one command.

Inside was a collection of artifacts, taken from cults, and kept in glass jars and boxes. Ancient jewels from several countries, glowing orbs of unknown origin. Innocent looking objects like letter openers and music boxes, that were kept in confinement. All accumulated over a number of years. The shelves and floor were nearly covered, but Robert Langley only came for one thing, and he was apprehensive about picking it up.

Langley knelt down and reached for one wooden box-mahogany-pulled out what was inside, and let his fingers trace over it. It was a part of a small statue, that had been worn over with lime and dust, but kept it's undeniable shape.

A stag's head.

* * *

Things you keep close to you in your other life will become powerful and linked to you in some way. This is more so true, if it serves as a symbol of what you've become. (thanks for reading ya'll)


End file.
